


Wrapped Up In You

by Euterpein



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (kind of but not really) - Freeform, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), BDSM, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Breathplay, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not Beta Read, Power Dynamics, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Subspace, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), implications of switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: Three days after the Apocalypse didn't happen, Crowley and Aziraphale finally work up the courage to get together.Threeweeksafter the Apocalypse didn't happen, Crowley finds Aziraphale's sex toy collection.Secrets are shared and interests explored, and Crowley learns more about the both of them than he was entirely prepared for...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 247
Collections: Name That Author Round Five: After Dark Redux, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Wrapped Up In You

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as a 500 word ficlet for the Good Omens Events Server's NSFW Guess That Author event, but it turned into a behemoth all its own. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Crowley tried, again, to make any sense whatsoever of what he was seeing. 

He had only snuck in for a quick peek; Aziraphale had mentioned offhandedly that he still had some of his old outfits, or recreations of them, and there were a few that Crowley was eager to... _revisit_ now that he was finally able to touch him the way he’d always wanted. When he had encountered the subtle magic keeping the wardrobe sealed, he had thought it was to keep humans away from something with sentimental value and had banished it with barely a thought. He certainly hadn’t been expecting _this._

The wardrobe was completely and entirely crammed _full_ with toys. Floggers, whips, paddles, and other instruments hung neatly on little hooks across the back panel. Along the bottom, dildos and vibrators ranging from the size of a pinky to the size of an entire forearm were arranged by size and, disturbingly, by colour. 

Crowley stared at them, blinking stupidly, for a full minute. 

In a bit of a daze, he reached out to pull at the drawers that sat below the wardrobe’s main section. Inside the various compartments he found myriad lengths and colours of rope, cuffs and collars in different materials, condoms, enough lube to drown a small army...

“Crowley? Did you still want to--” 

Crowley jumped, slamming the drawer he had been peering into shut and whirling around, but it was too late. Aziraphale was standing at the door to the bedroom, wearing an expression of mild embarrassment. “Oh! I see that you found my collection.” 

Crowley blinked at him. He could feel the heat radiating off his own face, his body stiff and trembling slightly as through ready to bolt if needed. “Your-- _collection_?” he managed to choke out. 

Aziraphale’s own cheeks were rosy. “I was going to show you eventually, darling, I swear I was. I just didn’t want to frighten you.”

Crowley let out a huff of slightly hysterical laughter at that. “And this is--you’re into this, are you? The...” he waved a vague hand at the wardrobe, “the _accoutrements_?” 

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale admitted. Then, a little hopefully, “Are _you_?”

Crowley opened his mouth to answer that, then clicked it shut. He looked back at the wardrobe dubiously. “Erm. Maybe?”

“We could...try a few things, if you’d like. Get a feel for it.” Aziraphale might as well have been suggesting they try a new locale for lunch, or an as-of-yet untested vintage from his collection, if not for the glint in his eye. 

Crowley eyed a wicked-looking paddle that hung near the back of the wardrobe. It sent a little fizzle of fear through him, a banked heat in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn’t so naive as to not recognize a shiver of excitement as well. He ran his fingers over a bundle of soft, emerald rope in one of the open drawers. “...Yeah. I think I’d like that. Erm, let’s take it slow, though, yeah?”

When he turned back to face Aziraphale, the angel’s smile had gone downright _predatory._

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale purred, finally moving from the door frame to wrap possessive arms around Crowley from behind, “we can go as slow as you like.”

Crowley shuddered, and let his head fall back onto the angel’s shoulder.

“What did you want to start with?” Aziraphale’s voice was little more than a whisper, warm honey dripping into his ear. His warmth pressed against Crowley’s back was searing, distracting, making Crowley’s head spin before they had even really started. “Anything...catch your eye?” There was a teasing note in his voice.

Crowley realized with some embarrassment that he had buried his fingers into the rope he’d been fidgeting with, gripping at its soft coils in his sudden distraction. He blushed and started to disentangle his fingers, then paused, considering. “Could we--erm, I think I’d like--” He cursed his inability to form the jumble of his thoughts into anything coherent.

Luckily, Aziraphale seemed to understand anyway. “Would you like me to tie you up?” He nosed his way along Crowley’s jaw and the long curve of his neck, alternating between little kisses and sucking bruises that made Crowley’s knees weak. “Bind your hands together behind you so you can’t touch?”

“I like touching you,” Crowley managed, gasping as Aziraphale gave an experimental little nip to the meat of his shoulder. He shuddered again.

“I know you do, darling.” Aziraphale sounded smug. His hands, which had thus far remained relatively chaste in their gentle explorations of Crowley’s chest through his t-shirt, slid downwards to fondle Crowley through his jeans. The sudden contact made Crowley gasp again, and he gripped the back of Aziraphale’s forearms for support. He had been so caught up in the sensations of Aziraphale at his neck and around his shoulders, he hadn’t registered his body responding to the touches. His entire world seemed to rush down to focus in between his legs as Aziraphale kept talking, squeezing him rhythmically in a way that was far too light to do more than tease: “Perhaps, though, you could imagine the advantage in having a few moments where _this_ ,” he squeezed, making Crowley whine, “is my responsibility alone, hmm?”

Crowley _could_ imagine it. He imagined how it would feel if, right now, he was instead naked with his hands bound behind him. The buttons on Aziraphale’s waistcoat would dig into the skin of his arms where they were pressed tightly to his lower back, just the right amount of discomfort to really drive home that the angel was fully dressed while he was completely bare. Aziraphale would have his hand around his cock, stroking, or maybe continuing the gentle, rhythmic pressure he was applying now, and Crowley would be absolutely unable to do anything about it. He would be _helpless_. Aziraphale’s touch would be overwhelming as it took him apart; the desperation to touch himself, to touch Aziraphale, fueling the fire that would rage until it ate him up entirely and shot him out the other side a shaking, whimpering mess...

From the wolfish grin Crowley could feel pressed into the back of his neck, Aziraphale had felt the shiver that had gone through him at the image. 

“Is that what--do you prefer that? Being in charge?” 

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “Sometimes. Well, usually, if I’m honest. I do _so_ enjoy being indulged. Though I certainly don’t mind doing things the other way ‘round when the mood strikes.”

Crowley had a sudden vision of Aziraphale being the one spread out beneath him instead; miles of milky skin all trussed up, with those big blue eyes gazing upwards, those stupidly perfect lips wrapped around his--

He whimpered and bucked his hips against the heat of Aziraphale’s palm through his trousers, soliciting a chuckle. 

“Like that, do you, dear?” More nuzzling. “Lovely. I think today, however, I’d like to focus on _you_. If you’d let me.”

And really, who was Crowley to say no to that? “Yeah, angel. Y-yeah, please.”

Aziraphale seemed to freeze momentarily at the ‘please,’ his hand on Crowley’s groin going still, and Crowley worried he’d said something wrong. The angel recovered quickly, however. “Of course, dear. Now, was there anything else that caught your eye? We don’t have to do anything else today, of course, but I am curious.” To Crowley’s immense relief and tremendous disappointment, he moved his hand away from the front of Crowley’s trousers to resume its slow exploration of the rest of him, allowing Crowley to actually have two brain cells to rub together so he could _think_. 

He took another long look at the contents of the wardrobe. He let himself picture using some of them, having them used on him. There were a few he shied away from; the whip and a couple of the more wicked-looking instruments across the back were a little beyond his ability to imagine enjoying in either capacity, though with no real experience of pain in a positive context he couldn’t be sure. Others, like some of the larger dildos, made him nearly faint at the idea of taking them himself, but caused a deep, squirming sensation in his gut when he imagined his angel stretched wide around them. The rope and other bondage toys were a definite and enthusiastic _yes_ on all counts. Then there were the more _exotic_ toys, the cock rings and the curious little rods whose use he couldn’t place, and others about which he just wasn’t sure. And the collars...

The collars made him feel something deep in his chest that he wasn’t sure he was ready to unpack quite yet.

He outlined his conclusions, minus the collar bit, hesitantly while Aziraphale listened. He didn’t make any comment on Crowley’s choices beyond acknowledging hums here and there, little nods of his head to demonstrate that he was paying attention. Crowley could just imagine the look of concentration that must have been on the angel’s face; all pinched seriousness as he listened to Crowley ramble on about filthy things because it was _important information that must be remembered, Crowley_. He smiled and wished vaguely that there was a mirror nearby so he could see it.

Once Crowley had finished, Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the side of his neck under his ear and pulled away. He chuckled a bit as Crowley swayed back towards him, missing his warmth immediately, and spun Crowley gently around to face him once again. His hands were gentle but his eyes were still full of the kind of hunger that made Crowley instinctively want to go to his knees. “Would you like to choose what we do today, or would you like me to choose for you?”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat at the implications of that. He shook his head as if to clear it. “I trust you. Do I need a safeword?” 

“Since it’s your first time doing anything like this, ‘stop’ or ‘no’ will do quite nicely, I think. I want to hear your opinions, want you to tell me how you’re feeling so we can figure out what you like. And you’ll always have your miracles, of course. Though if you’d prefer to have a safeword, I would of course be happy to accommodate...?” He looked at Crowley curiously. 

“N-no, that’s alright. I say ‘stop,’ you stop, easy enough.” He swallowed, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. It was difficult to decide whether what he was feeling was excitement or nervousness or both, but it curled deliciously within him as Aziraphale’s easy smile turned sly once again. 

“Good, very good. I’d like you to start by removing your clothes, then, dear.” He said it so plainly, as if ordering your hereditary-enemy-turned-best-friend-turned-lover to get naked was a perfectly ordinary thing for an angel to do. Crowley made an inarticulate noise but moved to do so out of pure instinct. He pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, followed by the long, silver necklaces he’d been wearing with it. His trousers came next, requiring a great deal of squirming and hopping about, and finally they and his pants slid to the floor in a jumble. He picked them all up and tossed them to rest in a pile on a chair. Aziraphale looked him up and down as he turned back around to face him, fighting the urge to cover his now mostly-hard cock from that intense gaze. Somehow, he didn’t think the angel would like that very much.

“Thank you. Get on the bed, if you please. On your knees, facing towards the back wall. Don’t look back.” Crowley swallowed again and nodded. He clambered up onto the foot of the bed, feeling rather than seeing Aziraphale’s gaze on his arse as he crawled to the centre, and settled on his knees. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. They started pressed to the bed on either side of him, then moved to rub nervously up and down his legs. “Just rest them on your knees, love,” Aziraphale said from behind him, apparently still watching. Crowley flushed a little further but obeyed, laying them over his knees and forcing them to stay still.

Once he had settled down in his position on the bed, he started to hear Aziraphale shuffling around behind him. There was the sound of his jacket being pulled from his shoulders, the _snick_ of a belt being undone, the gentle sounds of two shoes hitting the rug one after the other. Crowley felt as though his whole world was narrowing down to those barely-there noises. He was staring at a blank wall with no touch or smell or taste to cling on to, so the little sensory input he had from those sounds seemed to reverberate much more than they had any right to do. 

The bed dipped behind him and he jumped a little, not having heard the angel approaching on the soft carpet. He took in faltering breaths as Aziraphale ran warm palms up his back, over his shoulders, just stroking. 

“Relax, darling.” Aziraphale’s voice had gone low and gravely, quiet in the still room. “Just let me take care of you. And remember, if _anything_ happens that you don’t like, you just say the word and I’ll stop.” Crowley nodded, trying to relax as he let out a slow breath. Aziraphale’s hands helped immensely as they worked over his back and shoulders, his neck, spreading warmth and kneading at knots wherever they went. Crowley let himself sink into that pleasure. 

After some indeterminate amount of time, Aziraphale murmured, “Give me your hands, dearest.” Crowley did so. They felt unusually heavy as he brought them around from their resting place on his knees but Aziraphale quickly lifted that burden, taking his wrists in a grip that was gentle but firm. He guided Crowley’s arms behind him until they were tucked against the small of his back with his hands almost but not quite touching the opposite arms. In that position he was pulled back a little, his spine straighter than he usually ever managed, but not contorted uncomfortably. A single squeeze told him to keep his arms in place as Aziraphale released him. He came back a moment later with what Crowley presumed to be the emerald rope from earlier, which he ran along the delicate skin of Crowley’s shoulders before moving out of range again. 

Crowley kept up the slow and steady breaths. He felt Aziraphale bring a loop up between his arms and back, then brought another part through that loop and pulled until it cinched around his forearms, holding them together. The mechanics got a little complex after that, but Crowley could feel Aziraphale extending the knotting outwards on either side until his arms were wrapped entirely to the elbows. 

There was something absolutely mesmerising about the feel of rope sliding across his skin. It was soft to the touch and flowed like water, but wholly inexorable once set in its place, a perfect duality of gentleness and steel. _Not unlike a certain angel_ , he thought. He found himself experiencing a curious sinking sensation as the angel worked; like he was laying back in a hot bath, letting its warmth envelop him, or like the first swoop of descent when he was flying. It should have been frightening, but it wasn’t. It was _inviting_.

Aziraphale wrapped tendrils of rope from his arms all the way around his ribs and back, then made a complex set of knots across his chest and over his shoulders. None of these seemed to have any utility like the knots around his arm did, but they contributed to the fuzzy, dipping feeling going on in Crowley’s head. It made him feel like he was wrapped up in a warm hug; pressure in all the right places. 

The ends of the rope that Aziraphale moved carefully around them to avoid tangling grew shorter and shorter as he continued. When he at last seemed satisfied with his work he tied them together in what felt like a little bow between Crowley’s shoulders. He ran warm hands up Crowley’s arm, gently.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

Crowley hummed. He felt drunk, almost, warm and heavy in that way he would get after a night of red wine when his silk pillowcase started calling his name. He moved happily into Aziraphale’s soft touches, leaning back to press into the clothed warmth of him. “M’ good,” he said, voice low and relaxed. “Feelss niccce.”

“Good.” Aziraphale’s smile was evident in his voice. “You look absolutely lovely like this, my dear. Would you like to see?”

Crowley considered this. “Yeah, angel. Sshow me.”

Aziraphale clicked his fingers and a wide mirror appeared at the end of the bed, leaned up against the headboard. Crowley took in a sharp breath at the vision that presented itself. The deep emerald of the rope stood out richly against his freckled skin, complementing the copper of his hair strikingly. Aziraphale had crossed it over his chest in a pentagram pattern, the cheeky angel, and the whole look of the thing was positively _mesmerizing._

Aziraphale’s eyes burned into his own in their shared reflection. He was still in his shirt and trousers, and had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows for the moment. He looked almost as edible as Crowley felt in that moment. The angel wrapped himself around Crowley and pet down his chest, stopping to tweak briefly at his nipples before moving splayed fingers over the plane of his stomach. He bypassed Crowley’s cock entirely, which had softened somewhat during the tying but was quickly getting up to speed with the situation, to caress the light dusting of hair on his thighs. 

Crowley shivered and shifted in Aziraphale’s grasp. He gasped slightly as the carefully-placed rope brushed against his nipples as he moved, a slightly rough touch that complimented the soft but all-encompassing feeling of Aziraphale around him. He felt well and truly trapped like this, caught in his angel’s grasp, unable to move away or free himself even if he wanted to.

Crowley’s cock was fully hard again embarrassingly quickly.

Aziraphale seemed content to ignore that fact completely for the time being, preferring instead to watch Crowley’s reflection as he made him wriggle and writhe with his teasing. His hands were restless in their endless movement. They traced over the lines of the rope pressing delicious marks into Crowley’s skin. They scratched lightly, then more deeply. They twisted at his nipples, pinching harshly, before brushing over them soothingly and moving on. All the while his eyes were focused and intent as though carefully cataloguing each and every one of Crowley’s reactions; Crowley might have almost thought him disinterested if it weren’t for the evidence to the contrary he could feel pressing into his lower back. 

It didn’t take long for Crowley to be a sobbing, writhing mess in his arms. It felt so _good_ , too much and not enough, sunk so far into the feeling of Aziraphale’s control over him and the sensations he was giving him that coherent thought was beyond impossible. He was reduced to feeling, to _need_ , to the burning and all-consuming pleasure of this moment. 

Finally, Aziraphale seemed to think he was ready for more. The angel’s hands reached down to cup Crowley’s balls in a gentle hand, chuckling when Crowley tensed at the idea of them being treated the same as his poor, abused nipples. Aziraphale didn’t linger there, though. Instead he moved up to grip lightly at Crowley’s leaking cock, just holding it for a moment, then bringing his hand up and down the shaft far too achingly slowly to actually get anywhere. Crowley keened, remembering the fantasy he’d had earlier about this very thing. The fantasy hadn’t come anywhere close to _this_. 

Crowley sensed a tear leak from his eye, felt it track down his cheek in a detached sort of way. Aziraphale apparently saw it in the mirror, because his hand stopped moving. “Are you alright, Crowley? Do you need me to stop?”

The words filtered into the slow, soupy jumble of Crowley’s thoughts with no meaning whatsoever attached to them. He tried to make them make sense, concentrating, fighting against the fog in his mind. Finally, he understood. “N-no!” he gasped, almost desperately, writhing in distress rather than pleasure this time, “No, please, _please_ , angel, I’m so close, please don’t stop--I _need_ \--”

“Shh, love, you’re alright. I won’t stop, it’s alright.” Aziraphale gentled him like he might a startled horse, wrapping Crowley completely in his arms until he stilled, panting. He resumed his ministrations on Crowley’s cock but with intent this time: his grip was sure, his strokes nearly methodical, all hints of teasing gone. A constant litany of broken sounds spilt from Crowley’s lips, his hands clenching fruitlessly in their binds, his entire world focused down to the points where Aziraphale was touching him.

A warm thumb moved to swipe at the tears now flowing openly down the side of his face and Crowley opened his bleary eyes, barely aware that he had closed them. The thumb was there as a comfort, he could tell, but Crowley found that as soon as he registered it was there he _desperately_ wanted it in his mouth. He parted his lips and let his long, serpentine tongue snake out. Aziraphale let out a moan of his own when he wrapped it around the thumb, drawing it closer, tasting the salt of his own tears on the pad of it. 

Aziraphale chuckled and drew his hand away to a disappointed whimper from Crowley, who pouted at his reflection in the mirror. “I think you may have forgotten who’s in charge at the moment, my dear,” he whispered darkly, moving to instead rest the curve of his fingers against Crowley’s throat.

He didn’t squeeze at all--no pressure, only the steady warmth of his hand and the implication of what _could_ happen if he didn’t cooperate--but it was enough. Crowley bucked and choked in surprise as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, all the combined desperation of the last hour or so catching up to him at once. Aziraphale kept stroking him as he thrashed and twitched, coming all over Aziraphale’s hand and his own chest,only stopping when Crowley’s cries turned to whimpers of overstimulation.

They both panted for a minute, still tucked up against one another in front of the mirror. Crowley had never felt bliss like this; he and Aziraphale had been sleeping together for the past two months or so, following the failed end of the world, and every single time had been absolutely wonderful. But this? This feeling of floating, of flying, knowing with every single fibre of his being that Aziraphale was right there to catch him, was the freest he had ever felt. He luxuriated in it.

Eventually, though, all good things had to come to an end. He slowly came down from his place in the clouds, floating gently back into his body with a satisfied sigh. He wiggled a bit, wrinkling his brow when he realized he wasn’t in the same position he’d started in. Aziraphale had apparently laid them both down on the bed, the mirror gone but the ropes still very much in place, without Crowley noticing. He appeared to sense Crowley’s return to higher consciousness. 

“There you are, love. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he said honestly, still too blissed out to baulk at the idea, “Really good. All floaty ‘n whatnot. Ss’nice.”

He felt especially nice with Aziraphale wrapped around him like this. His arm was slung around Crowley’s middle, grounding him, reminding him that he was there. It felt _good_ , it felt _safe_. Which was a little ridiculous considering that he was tied up and helpless in the arms of someone who had practically been created to destroy him, but no one had ever accused his brain of making much sense. 

“I’m very glad to hear that. I...couldn’t help but notice that you rather enjoyed having something around your neck. Is that something you might be interested in exploring a bit more in future?”

His tone was casual, unassuming, but Crowley still blushed. “Err--yeah. At least, I think so. It felt--” _fucking fantastic_ “--really nice.”

“That’s the goal. Now, would you like me to untie you, or would you prefer to stay like that a little longer?” 

Crowley contemplated that. He didn’t really want to lose this warm bubble of safety if he didn’t have to, but it was difficult to know what his limits really were at this point. He stretched, long and cat-like, trying to gauge the aches and pains in his limbs and whether he would be comfortable like this for much longer. Instead, what he felt was Aziraphale. Or the part of him still tenting his trousers and poking at Crowley’s bony arse, at least. A lazy smile spread over his features.

“I’d like to keep it on until I can help you with _that_ , angel,” he purred, moving his hips more purposefully now, “if that sounds alright to you.”

Aziraphale let out a low moan, but his steel grip came down on Crowley’s hip to stop his grinding. “This was supposed to be about you, beloved, not about _me_.”

“Yeah, and _I_ would _really_ like to have that delicious cock of yours in my arse. Or my mouth, actually, I’m not picky.” Aziraphale huffed an almost disbelieving laugh, a puff of warm air against the back of Crowley’s neck that made his smile widen only further. “Come on, angel, I _want_ you too. What’s a tied up and helpless demon have to do to get a little good old-fashioned ravishing around here?”

“You are _ridiculous_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale said, but Crowley could tell by his tone that he’d won. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, then; for the angel to manhandle him around until he could get Crowley’s mouth on him, maybe, or to take him right there in their combined bundle of limbs. He yelped in surprise when Aziraphale instead flipped him onto his belly, smushing his face unceremoniously into the mattress. Crowley turned his face to the side to be able to breathe again as his hips were lifted and his thighs parted until he was at quite an uncomfortable angle.

“Oooh, we _are_ feeling domineering today, aren’t we, angel?” he teased, a bit of that giddy floating sensation coming back to him already. His cock was renewing its interest in the party as well, swelling slightly where it hung between his legs, the discomfort and vulnerability only stoking the fire in his belly.

“You asked for a _ravishing_ , my dear,” Aziraphale said mildly, “I’m only giving you what you want.” He ran a hand over the small swell of Crowley’s arse, thumbed ever-so-lightly at his hole. “I didn’t get to spend much time with this part of you earlier, you know. I must say I’m quite enjoying the view.”

Crowley wriggled, a hot flush of delicious humiliation flooding through him at those words. Literally all of him was fully on display for his angel right now, no part of him private. He had a sudden wish that the mirror was still around so he could see just how debased he had gotten. 

“Have you ever been spanked, Crowley?” 

“ _Ngk--_ guh--nuh?” Crowley managed, barely, as those words fizzled through his already overtaxed brain like a live wire. “No?”

“A shame,” Aziraphale remarked idly, still running his palms (which had gone from comforting to arousing-slash-threatening in a _heartbeat_ ) over Crowley’s cheeks and lower back with a darkly possessive air, “your arse would look absolutely lovely beaten bright red, I think. Besides, something tells me you’re quite overdue for a little lesson on discipline...”

Crowley felt like he was going to explode all over again, and this time Aziraphale wasn’t touching his cock _or_ fucking him. Which was just _unfair_. He whined and tried to grind his hips back into his angel’s still-clothed lap once again. “Y-you could, if you wanted.” 

“Could what?” 

_Above_ and _Below_ , he hated that smug bastard (he loved him, _oh_ , he loved him so very much). “You could--you could _spank_ me, if you wanted. I trust you.”

There was a slight pause as Aziraphale seemed to think about this. He curled his fingers to run blunt nails along Crowley’s skin instead, enough to sting but just short of leaving any kind of lasting marks. “As tempting a prospect as that is, my love, I think it’s best left until we have a bit more of a conversation about all this. It can be a bit...overwhelming.”

Crowley, tied as he was with his hands at his back and his face shoved into a mattress, completely at the mercy of one of God’s chosen angel’s, felt that the slight note of hysteria in his laughter at that was entirely completely and entirely defensible. Aziraphale distracted him from making a scathing remark about it by clicking his fingers again. 

Crowley shuddered as his entrance was opened for him, slick and ready without a touch, and he couldn’t quite muffle his gasp. “T-thought you liked to do things the old fashioned way, angel?” He tried for suave, but he was pretty sure the rasp in his voice gave him away.

“Normally I do, of course.” Aziraphale sniffed primly, as though his delicate sensibilities were being intruded upon. “But _normally_ I don’t have a recalcitrant demon to bring to heel, hmm?” 

“Pretty sure ‘recalcitrant’ is in my job description, actually.”

“And I’m pretty sure _thwarting_ is in mine.” Crowley opened his mouth to say something at that, but the words were instantly lost to a moan as Aziraphale pushed the head of his cock into the tight heat before him. Aziraphale pushed in until the head just breached the ring of muscle, causing them both to gasp, then pulled out again, making Crowley whine with the stimulation. He pushed back in and stayed this time, adding an inch before pulling back until only the head was inside, seating himself fully in the most torturously teasing way possible.

Crowley wriggled his hips and tried to use the little leverage available to him to push back onto that gorgeous cock, force Aziraphale to move, but the hands on him were inexorable. 

“Come on dear, none of that. Just hold still and let me _ravish_ you, please.”

Crowley huffed a breathless laugh, completely undeterred from his squirming. The iron grip on his hips and the inescapable feeling of the rope felt _amazing_ , and his hopeless movements just reminded him of the deliciously helpless position he was in. Aziraphale sighed rather overdramatically and shifted forward, taking one of his hands from Crowley’s hip and bringing it instead to the back of his neck, pinning the body beneath him fully to the mattress.

Crowley’s cock throbbed at this new position. He was completely and utterly pressed beneath the angel, unable to move any part of himself, forced to accept it as Aziraphale shifted his hips back and slammed forward again with a grunt. His own cock throbbed nearly painfully beneath him as it bobbed with the force of it. Aziraphale thrust again, then again, picking up a punishing rhythm as Crowley was reduced to little more than a moaning mess once again.

“There we--ah-- _there_ we are, dear,” Aziraphale panted, the breathlessness of his exertions finally creeping into his voice, “Now, isn’t that better? Isn’t it nice to be good for me?”

Crowley’s cock twitched violently at that, and he couldn’t help the way his body clenched and his mouth let out a little moan at the praise. 

Aziraphale made a happy little noise. “Oh, you like that, don’t you darling? Is it the way I’m speaking, or is it me telling you you’re good, I wonder?”

Crowley shook his head as best he could with the iron grip at his neck. “If I’m correct, and I suspect I am, you rather enjoy being told you’re good, don’t you? Like to be told you’re a beautiful, caring thing, so good for me, so _sweet_.” 

Crowley gave his best attempt at a hiss, drawing the line at being called _sweet_ , but Aziraphale only chuckled.

“Don’t try to deny it, my dear. I’ve seen how you are in bed these last few weeks. So _desperate_ to please me. Happy to kneel in front of me and take me in your mouth, bring me off with your fingers, your cock. So _giving_. You can’t fool me, my sweet little darling, my _good boy_.” 

Crowley couldn’t take it anymore. Between the filthy words spilling from Aziraphale’s mouth and the relentless thrusting of his cock into the tight clench of his body, he was helpless to stop himself as he seized up and came with a cry onto the sheets. 

Aziraphale crooned encouragingly at him as he continued fucking Crowley through it, not slowing down whatsoever. Crowley gasped and shook as his orgasm faded and was replaced by spikes of overstimulation, but the pleasure of it was still more than enough to keep him from begging the angel to stop. He felt _used_ like this, there only for his angel’s pleasure and nothing more, and the thought of that was almost enough for his cock to start filling again.

Aziraphale’s thrusts quickly grew erratic, and he slammed into Crowley forcefully a few final times before stilling, fully seated in the welcoming warmth beneath him, spilling into Crowley with a delighted sigh. Once he had begun to soften he slipped carefully out of him. He hushed Crowley’s whimper at the sensation and clicked his fingers again, releasing Crowley from his binds and cleaning up the mess on the sheets beneath them before guiding them both down onto them together.

Crowley sighed, utterly blissed out and enjoying the feeling of the angel pressed up against him in all his naked glory. He rolled his eyes internally when he felt a little bit of something leak from his poor, exposed arse, however. “You could have cleaned up the inside of me too, you know.” 

Aziraphale nuzzled into the back of his neck. “I could have. Do you want me to?”

“...No.”

A smile, pressed into his skin. “I didn’t think so.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“But I’m _your_ bastard, my dear. Which is, as I recall, a title worthy of not a little praise once upon a time.”

“Too right.” Crowley was glad he was facing away from Aziraphale so the angel couldn’t see the wide, open smile on his face. His eyes fell on the wardrobe, still standing open with its drawers pulled out at random. “Hey, angel?”

“Hmm?” He seemed to be nearly drifting off to sleep.

“Do you think you could show me how to use a flogger?”

There was a moment’s pause as Aziraphale seemed to tense in surprise. Then, “Oh, my dear,” heated kisses were pressed to Crowley’s neck, his freckled shoulder, “I would be _delighted._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Please note that this fic has been marked as complete for now because it's self-contained, but I am hoping to expand it more in the future! Probably not with any actual plot other than these kinky boys exploring their interests.


End file.
